


To build a home on gentle hands

by Queerapika



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:29:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerapika/pseuds/Queerapika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cheadle had granted each member of the zodiac twelve a week to finish their undisclosed affairs, to visit loved ones or to find someone to look after their belongings. When planning their trip together, Kurapika claimed the right to introduce Leorio to his clan first, so that they could continue traveling with lighter hands and lighter hearts.</p>
<p>(slightly nsfw)</p>
            </blockquote>





	To build a home on gentle hands

**Author's Note:**

> featuring my "Leorio is Italian" headcanon

_Sleep don't visit,_

_so I choke on sun, and the days blur into one_

_And the backs of my eyes hum with things I've never done_

Radical Face, “Welcome Home”

* * *

Nature has a way of reclaiming places once they get abandoned by humans; it works slowly but steadily. Wind and weather rough up and wear thin the walls of houses, so that fresh green vines crawl up more easily. Vegetation blooms intensely where the last ones to leave have buried their dead.

Kurapika is not surprised to find everything different than he remembers. If he tried to, he could identify the moss-covered ruins that had once been the home of his clan. If he tried to, he could remember where he found them, but his emotions seem to be all tangled up in each other and it is better not to feed them when it is unclear which will prevail.

He knows the trees he has climbed up all his childhood; they seem bigger now but their roof still lets the sun through in messy patches. What changed most is the air; it carries no longer the heavy miasma of decay, and the numbing silence that greeted him last time was now replaced by the songs of paradise birds and the clicking sounds that the palm monkeys use to communicate. The birds of the Kurta clan had not returned; with no one left to feed them, there was nothing here that would hold them. Kurapika empathizes.

This is not his home anymore; the place had changed and so had he.

“I only came back once, after the massacre. It was all over the news and a few organizations had gathered here to discuss whose responsibilities the bodies were. They assumed that there were no survivors. I sent them all away. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone touching my people.”

His hands shake, but Kurapika takes no notice of this until Leorio pulls him to his chest. Leorio, who has tears glistening in the corner of his eyes, but who is calm and steady. Kurapika presses his nose against a broad chest and inhales. The musky scent of Leorio's aftershave anchors him.

Strange, how the one person who does not belong here feels more familiar to Kurapika than the contradictory images of the past that are layered over this place like an overdeveloped photograph, one holding a faint echo of joy and life and the other black and charred and full of death. Perhaps he should have done more to preserve the first one.

It is too late for regrets, now that he has almost reached the end of the path he had chosen.

Together they carry his burden, a trunk full with cylindrical glasses, each one holding a scarlet eye. A pair of shovels is fixed onto the trunk's lid. Kurapika leads the way through the jungle's underbrush, to the place where he had buried his clan. As it is custom, the head side of the graves is lined with pottery that had been made by the hands of the deceased. _As you shape the earth, the earth will shape you,_ they say.

“You did this all on your own?”, Leorio asks unusually careful as if he fears his words could bruise Kurapika.

He says: “The soil of the forest is soft.” He doesn't speak of the stench, but Leorio would know what the humid air did to a corpse.

They had taken off their jackets quite some time ago and their shirts sticks to their backs, soaked.

They dig out a long, deep hollow at the feet of the graves, working in silence. There is no time for playful banter or talk about the future and it doesn't sit quite right with Kurapika that he cannot grant all of his brethren eternal peace yet. _Soon_ , he promises them. The ferns grow evenly on the clearing, no signs of restless souls wandering about.

The process of opening and pouring every cylinder is a tedious one and by the end of it, Kurapika is nauseous and dizzy from the fumes. He has to sit back as Leorio heaps the earth back in.

“So, are we supposed to recite something, or?”, Leorio asks.

Kurapika has to admit that he is not sure. He has attended a couple of funerals in his childhood and he knows the proper rites, but those have been kind and peaceful deaths that followed the way of nature and none of the deceased were robbed of their body parts. “There is a song that is sung for those who passed away in pain or violence, to ease their troubled minds. It's more of a lullaby than a blessing and I'm not sure if it extends to the eyes. But. I can teach you.”

Leorio's face turns scarlet and it's not from exhaustion although the sweat runs from his forehead and stings in his eyes. He blinks and wipes his forehead with his arm. “That's not necessary.”

“Leorio,” Kurapika softly says and it means ' _be reasonable'_. They have mastered the art of telling stories just by calling each others names, it is a talent one acquires by sharing spaces and memories and, in their case, the heated air between two naked lovers. “That's why we came here together, remember? You asked me to share my burden with you and I said yes because I belong with you and that makes you a part of the clan too. So, if I die on the dark continent...”

But Leorio refuses to listen. He shovels faster, more agitated. Kurapika can see the increasing strain in those familiar muscles and he stands up to touch Leorio's biceps gently. He halts, but refuses to look at Kurapika.

“Leorio, please.”

“You're not going to die!” He almost chokes on his words and drops the shovel like a petulant child, not quite turning away from Kurapika, who places a kiss on his shoulder.

“I might. And I know that upsets you. But if it does happen, you will get angry at yourself for not letting me finish this conversation, so you will listen to me now.” He is being unfair and selfish, he knows he is. All Hunters are selfish by nature; Kurapika never tried to make an exception. “If I die, I want you to bury the remaining eyes here in my stead. I will teach you the proper rites, so you can put them to rest. And I want you to sing for me. I don't care where my body is buried, choose a place that seems right to you.” Leorio is sniffling now, because he is a big sensitive baby and Kurapika loves that part of Leorio and all the other small ways in which he is ridiculous, too, like how he drools in his sleep and wears big fuzzy socks, how his hands get all clammy and sweaty when he is nervous. “I will write this down in my will and I'd rather you write one too. If we don't need them, there's always time to change them later.”

There would be time for so many things if they both returned alive and well. Like buying the king size bed that Leorio insists they need or the rings he pretends not to stare at whenever they pass by a jewelry store. The truth is that for the last six years not a day passed by when Kurapika had not been aware of the possibility of his own death. Finding out about the dangers of their excursion to the dark continent only caused him to re-evaluate this possibility as a near-certainty.

So when Leorio asked him to move into his apartment, Kurapika let himself be wooed, and did his best to love Leorio as much as he could. He still doubts it's as much as Leorio deserves (because he deserves all the good things in this world and even more), but Leorio is _happy_. And seeing him smile keeps Kurapika sane. So does the touch of his hand. Leorio has lovely hands, large, rough and calloused. The hands of a man who is used to work hard for what he wants. The skin around the knuckles is dry from too many washings with antiseptic hospital soap and tends to crack and bleed.

Kurapika raises them to his lips.

“I'm not going to let anything happen to you,” Leorio promises. “I just found you again, I-”

The Kurta interrupts him before he can say _'I can't lose you'_.

“I feel the same, so don't fret.”

Maybe it will be enough if they both try their best to keep each other safe.

 

The receptionist barely makes an effort to hide his disgust as they return to the hotel dirty, smelly and complaining loudly about being dirty and smelly; that is to say, Leorio is the one who complains while Kurapika agrees silently. The thought of fresh clothes and a soft mattress is tempting, the thought of squeezing into a tiny shower cabin with Leorio is even more.

He starts undressing Leorio the very second they step into their room.

“We're just coming from a sort of funeral, you know,” Leorio points out, because the eagerness with which Kurapika's fingers work indicate that the undressing is not just for the sake of cleanliness. He sounds so impossibly scandalized that the blond has to stifle a laugh.

“You don't think the dead will get upset with us for living, do you?”

Leorio grumbles, slightly embarrassed and fumbles with the buttons of Kurapika's shirt. “No, but God might.”

It's the first time he hears Leorio utter any kind of religious belief. Kurapika doesn't know quite what to make of it, although he shouldn't be too surprised, Christianity is the prevalent religion in Leorio's home country.

“Your god is a pervert if he doesn't have better things to do than spy on people getting naked,” Kurapika huffs and his big lanky dork of a boyfriend laughs, before he decides that they definitely don't get naked fast enough. They all but stumble into the shower, where Kurapika makes good use of the fact that he is the perfect height to press his lips on Leorio's nipples. His skin tastes salty. They don't come out for quite a while because there is so much of Leorio to touch and Kurapika is not content until he cherished all that he can reach.

 

“As what do you want me to introduce you to your family?”, Kurapika asks. They settle on the bed just in bathrobes, leaving the dirty laundry for later. Leorio is always very snuggly and sleepy after he climaxed, so his responses are quieter than usual and less of an outburst, which is a blessing because Kurapika doesn't have to fear for his ears when he rests his head in the crook of Leorio's shoulder.

“As my boyfriend, what else? Why? Are you nervous?”

They play a slow game of horizontal footsies.

“No. I just wondered if- we're not going to have to hide in a metaphorical closet then?”

“Nah, I don't think so. Mamma used to date a lot of girls before she met my father and no one dares to say a bad word around her. Except for Nonno – my grandfather from my father's side – he was senile and had these episodes where he just insulted people, but he died a month before I headed out for the exam.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

Leorio wraps his arms tighter around Kurapika's small frame. “They're going to love you.”

“If they're anything like you I have no doubt about that,” the Kurta whispers against his lover's clavicle. Leorio remains oddly silent and it is a matter of minutes until his breathing evens out. Kurapika waits for the snoring to commence before he dares to entangle their bodies. There is something he has to do, something that does not necessarily require borrowing his boyfriends phone and sneaking out on the balcony, but he is not sure yet if he will actually see it through.

The beetle phone feels heavy and way too big in his hands and Kurapika almost hopes that Leorio doesn't have this special number in his contacts, but this is _Leorio_.

It rings once, twice, thrice-

“Hello?”

He doesn't know what to say. He spent hours of his life studying dictionaries of a dozen languages, but his memory is suddenly wiped clean and it's too late to hang up.

“What's the matter, old man?”, the voice on the other end demands to know. It's the term 'old man' that does the trick and triggers a response.

“He's not that old and you know it, Killua.”

“Kurapika!” The boy sounds positively surprised. “How are you? It's been _ages_.” Killua doesn't question why Kurapika is not using his own phone and so Kurapika doesn't have to admit that he was afraid that his friend wouldn't pick up. Which is _really_ ironic.

“I'm good. Leorio and I are on a short vacation before we head out for our big journey with the rest of the zodiacs, so we plan on visiting a few people. I think he sent you a mail?”

Cheadle had granted each member of the zodiac twelve a week to finish their undisclosed affairs, to visit loved ones or to find someone to look after their belongings. When planning their trip together, Kurapika claimed the right to introduce Leorio to his clan first, so that they could continue traveling with lighter hands and lighter hearts.

Killua made an affirmative noise. “I told him that I can't tell you guys my current location.”

“I understand that. This is why I'm calling, we're going to be away for quite a bit and...” Their last goodbye had been ruined because Kurapika decided to slip away without telling them, but he doesn't want Killua or Gon to remember him as the one who dragged them into his dangerous affairs and then disappeared like a ghost. He could be inconsiderate like that; it was a trait that Kurapika justified with the promise of making up for it later, and oh how Melody had yelled at him for that. “I wanted to apologize.”

“What for?”

“I wasn't there when you needed me the most. Leorio said it was you who found a cure for Gon. I shouldn't have left you two alone with this. If I had known-”

_'If only I had picked up my phone-'_

He had shut himself off from everything and spent hours in that little abandoned chapel where he used to hide the eyes of his brethren. As if staring at them could help him get a clue where to find the remaining ones. Days went by in which he barely slept or ate. He had been in a dark place and merely assumed that the persistence with which Leorio tried to contact him had anything to do with Melody bringing up the word _depression_.

Some people may regard this a valid excuse; Kurapika doesn't.

Killua brushes it off with an air of resignation that stings and brings back nasty memories. He should not sound like that. Not at all. “You were busy. There was nothing you could've done anyway. I get that. It's Gon you should apologize to, but he's not going to be mad at you either. You know how he is.”

Kurapika bites his lip. 'Busy' is not quite the right term –

“I'm going to. Apologize to Gon, I mean. Whale Island is the last stop on our list, so if you change your mind...”

“There will be time for us to meet once you and the old geezer are back, right? You can't just fall off the face of the earth again, I need to introduce you to my sister.”

Kurapika's chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with the chain wound around his heart. He says: “I'd be honored to meet her,” with all the certainty he can muster, like there is no doubt that they will get to reunite.

“Oh yeah, and have an eye on the old man, we can't have him dying either.”

“I'll let Leorio know that you're very worried about him,” he teases fondly. Kurapika will never understand why these children have so much faith in him. Maybe they confuse his recklessness with bravery, but from the way Killua talks one would think that saving the day is something Kurapika does everyday, when in reality it is them who are strong, it is them who are better at looking after each other.

“What? That was not what I said at all!”

“And I'm sure he shares the sentiment.”

“Don't say such mushy crap!”, Killua yells, all bashful.

Now, that is a side of him Kurapika rather wants to see. “I assume things are going well on your end?”

“Well, we haven't been found yet, so that's good. And Alluka's really enjoying herself. Also we met up with Ikalgo – he's a friend I made in NGL – so it's not like we're all on our own.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” Making new friends, going to places he wants to see – Killua seemed to grow, slowly. “Take care.”

“You too, Kurapika. Until we meet again?”

The sun sets, clouds glow orange on a pink sky.

“Until we meet again.” Kurapika hangs up first.

He lingers for a while, watches the twilight spread and waits for the first chilly breezes to pick up. Dark clouds gather, rolling in from the sea, fat and ready to burst. He remembers how he used to love the sound of the rain plummeting on palm leaves.

Sounds can be heard inside, the slight creaking of a mattress, naked feet on marble. Kurapika expects Leorio to call out for him. He doesn't.

The sky cracks and the blond flees inside, just in time to see his boyfriend kneeling on the floor, stuffing the dirty laundry in a spare bag. He exposes a good deal of his butt as he does so because the bathing robe is just not cut for a man his size and Kurapika can't help but to snicker.

“Hey,” he says.

Not reply. Leorio stands up, pulls the bathrobe back in place and peeks back at Kurapika in this bent-over way that betrays that he is seeking comfort; head low, shoulders tense and crouched.

“What's the matter?”

“You can just _ask_ , you know. I would have given you my phone and some privacy, there's no need to do it behind people's backs.”

Kurapika is familiar with that tone, with the childish hurt that is usually the prelude to one of Leorio's tantrums. He feels laughter bubbling up in him. Kurapika swallows it because he finds himself teetering at the edge of a fight and mockery is not going to improve the situation. At all. Instead, he places the phone carefully on the night stand and says: “You're right. I'm sorry.”

Leorio's forehead creases; he no doubt expected a different answer, one with more bite and stubbornness and doesn't seem to trust the peace that is offered so willingly. Half of their relationship was shaped by defiance, from the bickering of their courtship to the deadly silence that followed their real fights, they had the habit of opposing each other just out of purpose; Leorio because he had a sensitive ego and Kurapika because he was too proud to admit when he was not right. But now they're on a tight schedule and cannot afford the painful dance of crashing their egos and yelling painful truths they later regret. Seconds pass; Leorio feels the pressure to fill the silence more than Kurapika, but while he is good at living his emotions, his strength lies not in analyzing or voicing them. Something is amiss, something that goes deeper than a phone call.

The set of his jaw tells Kurapika that Leorio's still trying to figure out his own anger when he says: “You always do that. You always keep things secret even if you don't have to. Did you think I wouldn't notice it when you go? Or don't you care?”

“You think I'm shutting you out. On purpose.”

“What? No.” It comes out without much conviction. Leorio tries to readjust his glasses, but finds that they are not on his nose; he left them in the bathroom when they made a dash for the shower.

Kurapika lets out a sigh and approaches his boyfriend slowly. “I used to be more open with you, I know. But unlike you I didn't exactly make friends since then. I _had_ to be on guard. Still am. It's not because of you. Leorio, I _love_ you. And you're my dearest friend. You're the closest thing to home I have, so please trust me when I say I'm not secretly plotting escape routes out of our relationship.”

“I-I just don't like it when I wake up and you're not there,” Leorio sputters defensively. When Kurapika reaches out to run his fingers over his cheek, he even leans into the touch. The skin is prickly with the hint of tomorrow's morning stubble.

“Understood. No more sneaking out of bed, I promise.”

“I mean if you gotta take a piss in the middle of the night, I'm not going to get mad at you if you do.”

“Shut up, Leorio, that's not an attractive thing to say at all.”

“Well, excuse m-”

He does not get the finish his sentence yet again because Kurapika drags him down by his collar and presses their lips together fiercely, sealing his promise in the manner of the fishing folk of Whale Island.

With a kiss.

 


End file.
